


strictly professional

by isostatic



Series: flip zimmerman one shots [1]
Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Dominance, F/M, Obscene Amount Of Use Of The Word Cock, Office AU, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isostatic/pseuds/isostatic
Summary: When the guy you hooked up with last weekend shows up at work as your new manager, you know your job is about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Series: flip zimmerman one shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795702
Comments: 8
Kudos: 84





	strictly professional

**Author's Note:**

> a shameless, shameless piece of office smut to get you through this quarantine. inspired by literally any picture of adam in a full suit ever. you're welcome

You’re not even concentrating as you make your way to the conference room of the office, running on autopilot as usual for this time on a Monday morning. The weekend was always so short, and the weekdays so _long_. You’d be drowning in paperwork before noon, hunched over your desk wondering how exactly you’d ended up in such a monotonous routine. You craved excitement, searched for it at every available opportunity.

And my god, had you found it that weekend.

You’d been in your usual bar, a half-finished margarita clasped between your fingers and another waiting on the table as you eyed the clock on the wall. Your friend was late, always was, but even this was pushing it. She could have at least called to let you know. Saved you the hassle of doing your makeup, putting on your best dress, curling your hair so that it fell across your shoulders just so. Your Saturday night catch-ups were all you had to look forward to during the week, the one motivation to keep you pushing through at work. She’d been seeing that guy for a few months now, cancelled on you a few times to spend the night with him instead, but she’d promised she’d be here tonight.

Work had been especially tough. Your manager had announced she was leaving, taking a better paid position in the capital. She was the only real friend you had at work, the only co-worker you could _actually_ talk to, besides the standard office small talk. And though you were happy she was moving onto something better; you couldn’t help but think you’d be lonely in the office without her. You mind couldn’t help but wander who they might send to replace her, whether you’d be able to bond with them as well as you had with her.

Though your mind wasn’t on that for much longer, no, because your attention was drawn straight to the entrance of the bar, to the hulk of a man walking through. You’d later learn his name was Flip, when you sauntered over to him at the bar, second margarita in hand, determined not to waste your night now you’d dolled yourself up. Only when you’re sat at the bar, legs crossed towards him, do you realise how handsome he really is.

His dark hair is long, hangs to his strong jaw in places, accompanied by a goatee and moustache that sits atop his thick lips. Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but you can’t stop thinking about them smothered against you, the hot heat of his mouth against yours, the tickle of his facial hair. His broad, muscled shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt as he leans against the bar, elbows rested against the surface. A single brow raises as you speak, dark eyes regarding you with a curious amusement.

“A guy like you is _far_ too handsome to be sat here all alone,” you flirt, waving a finger towards him with a smile.

That was _definitely_ the tequila talking. He looks you up and down, sizing you up. You enjoy the intensity of his eyes on you, find yourself leaning into it as his eyes fall from your face, to the neckline of your little black dress where your cleavage sits, to the curve of your hips, the exposed skin of your legs that stretch towards him in his seat. You can see that he likes what he sees, that behind his eyes there’s the same hunger you feel inside.

He smiles. “Mmm, and are you here to keep me company?”

Damn right you were. And kept him company you had.

You don’t even remember the rest of the conversation, the words that had spanned across your next few drinks, taken you from your bar stool, to the passenger seat of his car, to the front door of your apartment. You’d fiddled with the keys in your hand, desperate to get them in the door as you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck, his hands circling your hips. You hadn’t felt want, _need_ , like this in months. A sensation that welled within you, eager to be satisfied as soon as possible. You’d practically worked up a sweat in the car ride here, as he’d gripped the bare skin of your thigh with his free hand, looked at you with dark eyes that let you know you were in for a hell of a night.

You don’t waste time pretending to show him around your place, tenderly asking if he wanted a drink, like you might have done with another man. No, with him it’s more direct. You know what you want, he knows why he’s here. As soon as the door is shut behind him, he’s lathering you with hot, open-mouthed kisses, hands clasped either side of your face. You moan against his mouth as his tongue explores you, familiarises itself after only an hour or two of knowing you. You can feel your heart hammering against your chest, beating at a million miles an hour at the excitement of it all.

You tug at the jacket clinging to his body, not breaking lips for a moment as he shrugs out of the thing, the heavy, dark denim falling to the ground with a thud that neither of you pay any mind. He drops a hand to your ass, takes a firm handful, pushing you impossibly closer to his body with a squeeze. You arch your back against his touch, wanting his hands all over you, touching you everywhere at once. The sound of your moan is muffled by his lips, though you can feel them pulling into a smile against your own. You slide your hands between your bodies, scrambling to unclasp the belt of his jeans, aching to get your hands on him. He breaks contact with your lips only for a moment, his hand clasped over your wrist, stopping you from moving any further.

“Bedroom.” The single word is an order, the low-tone of his voice enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

He’d fuck you right there on the couch if he had to, maybe even the floor, hell, for a wild moment back at the bar he’d even considered taking you in the back seat of his car. Anything to get his hands on you quicker, feel the warmth of your insides around him. But now he can’t get the image of you sprawled out on the mattress for him out of his mind, needs it as soon as the thought enters his head. He follows you silently, your hand still held in his as you lead him through your small apartment, stop just short of the bed. He stands close enough behind you that you can feel the bulge of his jeans pressed against your ass as his lips patter slow kisses across your neck, make you sigh with the pleasure of it.

You feel his hand come around to your chest, work its way under the fabric of your dress and bra to grasp at your breast, squeezing them just enough to make you gasp, his lips never leaving your neck. His other hand slides between your legs, fingers dragging up the skin of your inner thigh until they meet the fabric of your underwear, his touch feather light against the lace. He can feel your excitement through the material, the soak of it against his fingers, and lets out a primal groan against your throat, the kind that sends a shiver straight up your spine. You’re practically shaking with the anticipation, fighting the urge to strip yourself of your clothes and beg him to take you. He tugs at the fabric of your panties, pulls them down until they’re stretched across your ankles as you open your legs for him, let him touch him the way you’ve been craving. He presses his finger against your folds, moans at the sensation of your slick skin against him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me baby.” He says in that low, gravelly voice that almost tips you over the edge.

You pinch your eyes shut, tip your head back against his shoulder as he starts to rub small circles against your clit, the simple motion enough to make you feel weak at the knees in a matter of seconds. You’re practically leaning into him, feeling as if his hand across your chest is the only thing holding you up as he pleasures you. And _god_ , does it feel good to have him touch you like _that_ , but it’s not enough. You can hardly focus, mind so overcome that you don’t think twice about telling him what you want, what you _need_ , from him.

“You—,” a high moan interrupts your pleading, “…you feel so good, please… fuck me. I— need you.”

If he wasn’t already stiff in his jeans, those dirty words coming from your sweet sweet mouth would have done it for him. He removes his hand from between your legs, brings it up to your mouth, and you take his fingers right down to the back of your throat without even thinking, taste yourself on them, because you’d do _anything_ he wanted you to right now. You’re sure of it. You pull your dress up over your head, unclasp your bra and turn around to face him fully nude. He licks his lips as he admires at you, eyes pouring over every inch of your skin with a look you can only describe as hungry. Like a predator, eyeing up his prey.

“Lie back on the bed.” He orders, and you find yourself obeying wordlessly.

You watch as he strips himself of his tartan shirt, peels off the white tank top underneath to reveal his muscled torso. He’s somehow impossibly bigger without his clothes on, a wide mass of brawn standing before you. You’re sure now, positive even, that he could crush you if he wanted to, break you in half if he felt like it. And there’s a part of you, part of you that you’d never admit to outside of these four walls, that wants him to. He unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his jeans at an achingly slow pace as you watch from the sheets, propped up on your elbows, eager to see what he’s got in store for you.

And when he finally frees himself from his boxers, his hard on springing into view, your mouth falls open at the size of him. You knew he’d be big, any man who carried himself the way he did would have to be, but… _still_. He spits into his hand, reaches down to jerk himself off for a few long strokes in front of you.

“You like what you see?” He asks with a smirk, thought he can tell from the way your eyes bulge in your head, the way you bite down on your lip, that you do.

You can only nod in response as he starts to close the distance between the two of you, placing a thick arm down next to your head as he leans over you, gazing down on your body beneath him. You can’t help but look back, stare at the man above you, the Adonis that he is. You don’t want to take your eyes off him for a second, daren’t miss a moment of this encounter. You watch as he uses his free hand to pin your leg against your chest, spreading your pussy wide open for him. He smiles at the sight as he begins to line himself up with you, his movements slow and purposeful. He rubs the head along your folds, forces a yelp from your mouth at the feel of him brushing against you.

“I can take you…” you begin to mutter, “you don’t have to go easy on me.”

He chuckles once from above you, and somehow even _that_ sound is sexy. There’s an amusement in his tone when he speaks.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

He slides inside you without further warning, stealing the breath from your throat as you gasp and curse under your breath. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open as he eases his way impossibly deeper inside you, fighting the urge not to screw them shut and focus on the building knot inside your stomach. But no. You keep them open, stare down at your intertwined bodies, watch as he buries his cock inside you, fills your body like no other man ever has. He lets out a low, guttural groan as his hips finally meet yours, his length fully submerged in your warmth.

“Fuck, you’re so _tight_.” He hisses.

Just those words, the sound of his voice above you, makes you clench around him. He drags his cock out of you slowly, pushing his way back into you harder than the last time, again and again and _again_ until he’s fucking you at full force, enough to make your headboard rattle against the wall. You’re not even sure how your body has enough room for him, how your insides make way for his length, but you’re glad they do. Glad they allow you this ecstasy. His breath is hot and fast above you, his eyes staring down onto you as you take him, as your moans built to a shout.

“You— fuck— feel so … _good_!” You cry out breathlessly.

You weren’t sure you’d ever considered yourself noisy in bed until this, until _him_ , but you can barely keep quiet, a constant stream of whimpers, moans and curses pouring out of your mouth. You can tell, from the way he speeds up, the way he hammers into you, that the sounds only encourage him. That he’s drinking them in, getting off on the sound of your pleasure. When his face isn’t buried in your neck, or turned up at the ceiling as he forces himself to hold out a little longer, he’s looking straight at you, rambling whatever comes to his mind. And some of the things he says, _my god_ , would they make you blush if you’d heard them anywhere else, if he wasn’t fucking any sense of civility right out of you now.

“You take this cock so fuckin’ well.” He grunts, forcing your leg up so that your ankle rests on his shoulder, so that he can get impossibly deeper inside you, reaching depths you didn’t know you had.

He’s resting his head on yours now, muting your moans against his hot mouth as he engulfs you in a kiss, as his tongue swirls against your own. You can feel the sweat pouring off him, sticking your chests together as he drills into you relentlessly. You wrap your hand around the back of his head, knot it into his hair tight, force his face even closer to yours. The sharp pinch of your grip only motivates him more, makes his hips move double-time against your own. The knot in your stomach begins to tighten, your orgasm building until you’re almost screaming against him.

“That’s it — fuck yeah, c’mon —” He mutters breathlessly, the words spoken straight into your ear.

“I’m gonna… fuck I—” you can’t even get the words out, can’t even begin to string a sentence together.

Your moan cuts off into a silence, your body unable to produce any noise at all as you feel the ecstasy of it wash straight over you. The pleasure radiates out of you, your toes curling and your fingers fisting into his hair, the sheets, whatever you can get a grip on, eyes rolling back in your head. You arch your back towards him, curling up off the mattress as he slides his arm under your back, cradles you as he fucks you right through it.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s it baby.” He rewards you, still keeping his pace, holding you tight as he feels his own orgasm surfacing, feels you forcing it out of him as you clench ever tighter around him. “You’re gonna make me — I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come inside you. Can I — _fuck_ , can I?”

His words are breathless, spoken between gasps of air as he tries desperately to hold on long enough for you to answer. You nod quickly, oh so quickly, your nose brushing against his. You’d let him have his way with you, whatever that meant. He bucks against you, forehead resting against your own, hot breaths picking up as you feel him twitch and jerk inside of you, feel him burst as an ungodly moan escapes his lips, the warm sensation of his come spurting into you. You feel yourself moan against the sensation, against him, as he presses his lips against yours once more, tired and lazy this time, exhausted from his endeavour.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about that night, about _that man_ , two days later. Even after the ache in your hips had all but settled, and you were free to sit down without the persistent reminder of your weekend lover. He’d left Sunday morning with nothing more than the promise he’d see you again next week. Same place, same time, same merciless love-making. In a way, you were glad he hadn’t left you with his number, his address, because you’d be sure to contact him again before the week was up, begging him to come and meet you again, to see to your needs the way no one else had.

He’s still on your mind as you take your seat in the conference room, settle into the seat with your warm coffee in hand, reminisce at the thought of his hands groping against you, his length sliding inside you. Your co-workers conversations are like background noise, the standard chit chat of what they did with their weekend falling on deaf ears. The clock by the door reads 9:09, the meeting would be starting any minute now. A few more people shuffle into the room, take their seats up at the head of the table, but you don’t pay them any mind. Don’t let them distract you from your wayward thoughts. Only when you hear the voice of your assistant manager speaking do you start to focus, raising your coffee to your lips and taking a sip.

“Good morning team, I hope you all had a restful weekend. As you know, this upcoming week will be our first without Cynthia, and I’m sure you’re all eager to meet your new acting manager as of today. Without further ado, I’d like to introduce you to Phillip Zimmerman, who’s transferred over from our branch in Colorado Springs.”

“Please,” the new manager starts, rising from his seat and buttoning up his suit-jacket. “…call me Flip.”

You almost spit out your coffee, damn near choke on it as you struggle to gulp it down with the shock. You feel your stomach drop, sink right into the depths of the flooring beneath you. You knew that voice. Knew that man.

And there he is, standing tall and proud at the front of the conference room. The polished man in front of you is a stark contrast to the dishevelled, sweaty lover who’d fucked you senseless only two nights ago. He dons a tight-fitting navy suit, the kind that shows off every single aspect of his body; the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles that line his arms and chest. It must have been tailored, you think, the way it clings to him just so. There’s not a single hair out of place on his head, his dark locks perfectly accenting his sharp, focused features. He’s trimmed his facial hair too, you notice, neatened up every aspect of his appearance. And boy, does he look _good_. You have to cross your legs just looking at him. Though you try and fight it, you can’t help but think how much you want him to take you dressed like that. Imagining his crisp-white shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened, suit pants sagging around his thighs as he fucked you up against the wall of his new office, the metal of his watch cold against your skin as he clasped a hand around your throat. The lust you feel washing over you is almost enough to take your mind off the mortifying situation you’ve found yourself in. Almost.

“Thank you for that introduction John.” Flip starts, clapping the other man, seemingly dwarfed by his presence, on the back. “I’m looking forward to working with each and every one of you.”

His eyes begin to pass over the other employees in the room as he speaks, and you can feel your heart begin to pound against your chest as his gaze works its way over to you. You’re sure it stops beating entirely when his eyes lock with yours. His eyes widen just slightly as he realises it’s you, that same intensity behind them as when he’d first seen you strip off for him. You feel like the two of you are the only people in the room as he holds your stare for what feels like hours, the slightest tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth, your cheeks growing hot under his stare. Whether it’s with embarrassment, or lust, you can’t quite tell. He turns his eyes then to your other co-workers, and you feel as if you can finally release the breath you didn’t know you were holding, avert your eyes to your coffee mug in front of you, try to calm yourself down.

“Now John has given me a bit of insight about how you run things at this branch, but I’d like to hear from each of you how I can support you in your work. I’ll be conducting meetings with you one-on-one today so I can understand how best to do that, and so get to know you all a little better. That sound alright with all of you?”

There’s a genal nod from the room around you, but you’re frozen in place. _One on one_. If you weren’t already at risk of going into cardiac arrest right there in your seat, the thought of sitting across from him in his office was enough to do the trick. You could barely control yourself here, on the other side of the room from him, never mind sat across from him at his desk. Sure, you had slept together and _hell_ , it had been good but this was different now. He was your boss. Surely that had to change things. You couldn’t be seen to be sleeping with your new manager, you’d known girls get fired for less, and while you weren’t the biggest fan of your job, it was better than no job at all.

Your panic doesn’t ease throughout the day. In fact, you find it only builds as you watch your colleagues get called into his office one by one, see him open the door again and again, calling names that don’t belong to you. Even over lunch, as you hear the other girls from the office gossiping about his good looks, his charming demeanour, his huge frame, you can’t bring yourself to relax. Can’t come to the logical solution that surely everyone would be attracted to him, that your own affection toward to him wouldn’t stand out from the crowd if you were careful.

By the time the clock on the wall ticks close to five, you’re sure he’s avoiding you, doing everything in his power to make sure he doesn’t have to see you. And how could you blame him? You’d thought so much about yourself; you hadn’t even considered why this might be uncomfortable for him. Why he might not want an ex-lover sat three desks away from his office for the foreseeable future. Perhaps his credibility as manager would be tarnished if anyone found out what had transpired between you, perhaps it was best to just pretend it never happened. And as he appears in the doorway of his office for the final time, a mere fifteen minutes left of the working day, you’re sure that’s exactly what he intends to do.

“It’s been a great first day getting to know you all, I have one less meeting to conduct but…” he checks the watch on his wrist, frowns at it. “…this meeting may run over to the end of the day, so feel free to head home and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The news seems to go down well with your co-workers. He beckons you to your meeting with the gentle call of your name, the first time you’ve heard it from his lips. You fight back the blush, the brewing nerves in your stomach as you walk past him in the doorway, take the ever-familiar seat in what used to be Cynthia’s office.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, been running a bit behind schedule. Lots of admin to do, first day and all.” He explains, closing the door behind you and taking his seat behind the desk, bare except for a single lamp, a pile of papers and a shiny new nameplate.

You can only nod, nerves stealing your words from you. He unbuttons his jacket as he sinks into his seat, clasps his hands on the desk in front of him, regards you with a stare that makes you fidget in your seat. Your nerves must show on your face, must have caused your cheeks to flush from the way he looks at you, intent but not without amusement. You try to read his expression, see through his poker face and into his mind, work out exactly what he was thinking, how he wanted to play this. You knew what you wanted to do. Shimmy your way out of your panties, sit yourself on his desk and spread your legs wide open for him, but you doubted that would be appropriate. The blinds weren’t even fully closed, you could run the risk of someone seeing you. That was if he even wanted you in that way. There was every chance he didn’t.

“I’ll admit,” he clears his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you in that conference room this morning.”

You laugh, more from the nerves than anything, the sound a little louder than intended. You’re grateful that he shares your amusement, that same smirk you’ve grown to admire spreading across his lips.

“Trust me, I was just as surprised as you were.”

You both bear a smile, but eventually they fade as a long pause stretches between you, neither of you sure of the right thing to say.

“This is usually the part of the meeting where I ask how best I can support you with your work. How I can make sure I’m helping you reach your… full potential.”

He’s careful with the way he chooses his words, crafting them cautiously enough that they could have been strictly professional, or something a little more exciting. The intention isn’t lost on you, you know exactly what he’s doing from way he looks at you, like he had that first night, sizing you up. You decided to play along.

“Hmm,” you pretend to think. “I think I do my best work when I know I have something to work towards… something to _motivate_ me.”

He leans back in his chair and lets out a thoughtful hum, rubs his hands over his goatee as he watches you. You cross your legs, let your pencil skirt ride up your skin as you sit across from him, watch as his eyes dart the newly exposed part of your thigh. You can almost see the cogs working in his mind, debating how to proceed.

“Like a reward?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you nod.

He breaths out hard through his nose, rises from his desk and walks to the window of his office, hands on his hips as he peaks through the blinds. He can see the other staff packing things away, getting ready to leave while some of them still type from their desks. He keeps his back to you for a while, and you think you might have crossed the line, pushed him a step too far, when he turns around, walks back to his desk and perches on the side closest to you. He’s less than two feet away from you now, his crotch just about level with your eyes, legs spread wide as he rests, his hands gripping the desk on either side of his thighs. You take full advantage of the sight, eye the semi pressed against the fabric of his pants.

“But in order to be rewarded… you have to work hard, perform well… follow orders. Can you do that?” He asks in That Voice, that low tone that still sent a chill up your spine, gave you flashbacks of how he’d spoken to you that night in your bedroom, when you were all his and no one else’s.

You look up at him through your lashes. “Yes.”

His eyes are dark with need, but you don’t dare shift from his gaze.

“Why don’t we see how good you really are at your job, hm?” He asks, rising to a stand, fingers beginning to work on his belt. “Get on your knees.”

You obey him without complaint, the coarse texture of the carpet beneath your knees as you look at up him hungrily, watch as he frees himself from his pants, lets his cock stick out in front of your face as he massages it in his hand, your mouth already watering. You lick a stripe up his length without hesitation, suck at the head for a second before pulling back, looking up at his face as he groans. You hold his eye contact as you ease him into your mouth again, tasting the sweet hint of his precum against your tongue as you ease your way down his shaft, swirl your tongue around him.

“ _Fuuuuuuuuck_.” He moans, removing his hand now so you can take him further into your mouth.

You feel your eyes begin to water as his length reaches the back of your throat, takes up all the space you have for him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as your head begins to bob up and down on his shaft, taking his hard cock in mouth. He knots his hand into your hair instinctively, finds himself easing his hips toward your mouth, watching his shaft disappear between your lips.

“It looks so fuckin’ good in your pretty little mouth,” the words are spoken through gritted teeth as he moans, struggles to hold back his pleasure as you work on him.

His words only spur you on, make you want to perform better for him, show him how much you _really_ wanted this, how good you could be, just for him. He tips his head back, lets his eyes close as he soaks up the feeling of you, the hot wetness of your mouth, the soft moans you let out that vibrate up his shaft. He lets out a groan so loud it fills the entire room, threatens to seep through the windows and out into the main office. Something about the thought of them hearing you turns you on, makes you want to work him up even further. You suck at the head, working your hand around his base in a circular motion at the same time, feel his grip tighten in your hair in response.

“You’re such a little slut for me,” he hisses, forcing your head back now so that you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Such a good little slut.”

He begins to thrust faster, fuck into your mouth while you stare at him, those pretty eyes of yours that had looked so innocent when you’d first walked in here. Before he’d had his way with you. Just when you think he might finish, paint your throat with his come, he pulls away, catches his breath as he holds your head away from him for a moment. He releases his hand from your hair, opens his eyes and looks down on you determinedly.

“Get up. Sit on the desk.” He commands, cleaning the desk of its items with an aggressive swipe of his arm.

He shrugs out of his suit jacket as you sit yourself down, forces your legs apart so abruptly that you gasp. He stands above you, his chin in line with your eyes as he shimmies your skirt up above your hips, until the cool wood of his desk is against your bare thighs, until your panties are on full display to him. You gulp as he starts to pull them down, sinks to his knees in front of your newly exposed skin. You can’t help but watch as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, leans forward to place the first flick of his tongue against your folds. A cry escapes your throat at the sensation, as he licks you from bottom to top, the taste of you sweet on his tongue. He moans against your skin, makes you shiver as he gets to work, his tongue flicking and curling around your pussy, making you squirm so much he has to hold you still, force his big hands against you so that he can do as he pleases. The feel of his facial hair against your skin sends a shiver up your spine, only adds to the pleasure of it all.

“ _Shitshitshitshit_ ,” you cry, “oh my — you feel so… good.”

His dark eyes stare up at you as he circles your clit, and you force your hand down into his hair, ball it up in your fist just to release some of the tension, to stop yourself from screaming out his name right there in his office. He works on you until you’re on the brink of your orgasm, until you can feel it ready to burst right out of you, and then pulls away, rises to a stand in front of you, until his lips are only centimetres away from yours.

“You want to be fucked, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, craving the feel of him against you again, anything to get you closer to that orgasm.

“ _Answer me_.” He demands.

“Yes. _Yes_ , I want to be fucked.” You whimper. “I want you to fuck me.”

He lets out a moan at that. “Bend over the desk.”

You ease yourself off the desk, force yourself over the wood, rests your elbows against it.

“Spread those fuckin’ cheeks for me.”

You do so, letting your face fall against the cool surface as you try to look over your own shoulder back at him, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, loosens up his tie as he looks at you there, wide open for him. He takes his still hard cock in his hands, pumps at it twice as he looks at you, before edging forward to line himself up. You can feel your thighs trembling at the anticipation, the sheer need of him inside of you, to fuck you like you deserved.

The first feel of him inside you is bliss. Makes your body ease as you sigh with the pleasure of it. He presses himself all the way into you, until his hips are flush against your ass and the breath is caught in your throat once more. You feel his hand clasp firmly around the back of your neck, your skin held locked in his grasp as he begins to rut against you, begins working you back up to your peak. His balls slap against you as he thrusts, fucks into you with a ferocity that has your hands splayed out on the desk, gripping its edge as you try to hold in your cries, your moans while he forces your face further against the wood. He can’t keep his eyes of your ass, the way it bounces against him, the way it ripples with each of his thrusts, and he gives it a hard spank, the sharp pain of it making you cry out.

As he works you closer to your orgasm, your moans crescendo up to a shout. Even in your pleasure-filled haze, you’re aware of the noise you’re making, but it feels too good for you to care.

“You’re gonna have this whole office knowin’ how deep I am in this pussy,” he rambles breathlessly, working up a sweat.

He shifts his hand from the back of your neck, uses it to cover your mouth, muffle the noise as you moan open-mouthed against his palm. Only then does he really let loose, the fingers of his other hand digging into your hip as he drills into you harder. The pace is enough to tip you over the edge, have you trembling as your orgasm ripples through you, your scream muffled against his palm. You feel your body begin to go limp in the aftermath, his thrusts slowing down until he’s pulled out of you completely, settling into the chair behind his desk. He only gives you a moment to catch your breath before he issues his next order.

“Come over here and show me how hard-working you really are,” he motions to his lap.

You sit up, sweep the stray hairs out of your face, follow him to his seat. His mouth is watering as he watches you mount him, watches the pleasure on your face as you ease down onto him, take him fully inside you again. He wraps his large hands around your hips, helps bounce you up and down on his cock as the chair creaks beneath your combined weight. You feel so good, so good against him that he can’t stop rambling, telling you how much he loves your tight little pussy, how you’re such a good slut for him, how he’s going to fill you all the way up with his come. He paws at the fastening of your blouse, rips the buttons straight open to get to your bra, to grope at your tits through the fabric.

“ _God_ you’re so fucking sexy —” he growls, freeing your tits from your bra and watching them bounce in his face.

He shoves his face into them, kisses at the skin between them, around them, tries desperately to suck at your nipples as you ride him. You increase your pace, grinding your hips against him in a way that makes his eyes roll back in his head, his mouth go slack as he finally lets _you_ do as you like with him. You kiss at his neck, taste the salt of his sweat on your tongue, nip at the skin exposed above his shirt collar.

“Fuck — I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come inside you right now I —”

He squeezes tight against your ass as he spills inside you, your hips still grinding against him as he does, drawing out his orgasm long enough for you to join him, coming just as he finishes. You fall against his chest in exasperation, your head cradled between his shoulder and his neck as his hand comes up to stroke your back tenderly, your body rising and falling in motion with his chest. You spend the next few moments in silence, only the sound of your ragged breaths filling the air of the room. He leans his head up then, looks at you in the eyes, a flush across his cheeks and nose as he stares at you.

“You know,” you start, still breathless. “I think you’re going to be a really good fit for this position.”

He chuckles then, and you feel the sound rumble out of his chest beneath you.

“I think you might be right.”


End file.
